The New League
by The Conquerors
Summary: In a Modern Age, the worst villains have gathered. An assortment of heroes must band together and fight them for the good of the world.
1. Many Meetings

The New League

**By: The Conquerors**

**Disclaimer: We do Not own League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Nor do We own Ghost Rider, Blade, Snake Plissken, Commando, Sherlock Holmes, True Blood, Harry Potter, Batman, or anything else you Recognize. Any Other similarities between this or other Notable works is totally coincidental. And sad.**

**AN: Greetings. I am Z of The Conquerors. This is our new story. As you may have Guessed by now, this is a LXG fanfic. The time Period is 2011-2012. If you have any heroes, Villains, or other assorted characters you wish to appear in this fine tale, Simply leave your Reviews and We shall see what we can do. Be warned however, we appreciate constructive criticism, but Please don't let It get Out of hand.**

**We of The Conquerors humbly request that you enjoy this story.**

**NOW LETS GET IT ON!**

Chapter 1

Many Meetings

The Multiverse is vast. Some may even say it's infinite. No one can tell, but it does have unique traits.

There are spots in this fabric of universes, where things behave strangely. They can be considered focal points, where realities begin to merge, and cause strange, wonderful, and extraordinary things to happen.

You have just entered one of these Reality Focal Points.

Congratulations.

* * *

><p>The skies were black. Lightning lanced down from the sky, slamming into the rods placed strategically around the fortress. The newly acquired energy raced through the system, illuminating the walls of the base. There was only one room that had no source of illumination. This was the meeting room, and it was lit by a roaring fireplace and candles.<p>

A table was placed in the center of the room. In better lighting, it would be seen that it was made of dark mahogany wood. Assembled around the table, each shrouded in darkness, were the villains of this tale. They were the worst of the worst, strangest of the strange, and above all, they were each extremely powerful. Yet they all bowed to one.

They called him The Master.

He sat at the end of the table. Behind Him was the fireplace. The dancing shadows kept His face hidden. All that were seen were His eyes.

They glowed.

Naturally.

Currently, His unblinking eyes stared out at His allies. They were arguing over something.

"SILENCE." His voice boomed across the room, immediately quelling all arguments.

"WHAT ARE YOU MISCREANTS ARGUING ABOUT NOW?"

"Well, sah, I said ta Russel, 'I can make this pencil disappear. Wanna see?' He said, 'Yah.' So I showed him an' now he's all upset. What did I do?"

"You shoved a pencil into my eye!"

"So? It'll just heal ina snap!"

There was the sound of a set of elongated canine teeth being bared.

"Don't push me."

"Can you two please stop talking. It is annoying me." said another voice. It was smooth and aristocratic.

"Ah, whatever Blondie."

"If y'all don't stop talkin', Ima gonna introduce ya ta mah guns. And I ain't talkin' 'bout mah muscles, Capiche?"

This voice had a very pronounced accent, almost gangster like.

"Hah! I KNEW ain't was a word!"

"Can it, yah clown!"

Another voice stepped in. This one was smooth, but at the same time it carried a demonic undertone.

"My father can probably hear you! And he's in Hell! In fact, he's the ruler of it!"

The next voice had a very pronounced German accent.

"Zis iz inzane! Mine zombies haff better brainz than you _Idioten_!"

"Can it, Docta'!"

"ENOUGH."

The voices quieted down instantly.

"LUCIUS, YOU SAY THAT THERE IS A SCHOOL FOR YOUNG WIZARDS?"

"Yes sir."

"WE CANNOT ALLOW THE WIZARDS TO BECOME A THREAT. BLACKHEART, YOU AND THE GOOD DOCTOR WILL DESTROY HOGWARTS."

"I need more of ze Element for mine zombies and mine serum."

"VERY WELL. MUGGSHOT?"

"Yo?"

"GO TO TEXAS AND RETRIEVE THE ELEMENT 115 AND URANIUM STORES THERE."

"Whatever, boss."

"LUCIUS AND RUSSEL SHALL GO TO FRANCE AND RETRIEVE THE PHEREMONE FROM KRAPPE LABROTORIES."

"Yes, my lord."

"Fine."

"What about me?"

"GO BACK TO GOTHAM CITY BEFORE SUSPICIONS ARE RAISED. WHILE YOU ARE THERE, I WANT YOU TO ACQUIRE THE FUNDS AND WEAPONS WE NEED."

"What? I don't get to do anything dangerous and violent?"

"We are talking about Gotham City."

"Good point."

* * *

><p>The Anti-League separated.<p>

They had their tasks.

Blackheart and the good Doctor Edward Richtofen boarded a specially designed plane created by the doctor. It was sleek, silver, and piloted by zombies.

Muggshot got into his machine-gun mounted monster truck and started off towards Texas.

Lucius disappeared with a crack while Russel flew away.

The Clown Prince of Crime got into his clown car with 50 of his thugs and departed towards Gotham.

The Master's plan was working. He was pleased.


	2. A Need for a League

We Own Nothing

Written by Z

Co-written by C

Conceived by Z, C, and J

The New League

Chapter 2

A Need for a League

"Doctor Richtofen, may I ask you something?" Blackheart asked as they arrived at the Doctor's laboratory to wait for Muggshot to arrive with the element.

"I zink you just did, but you may." Richtofen replied.

"I seem to notice that Lucius is perfectly capable of raising the magical version of zombies, what he calls Inferi. Why are you needed if he can do the same job?" Blackheart inquired.

"Ze Master told me zat if Lucius does zo, he leavez a signature of hiz magic. If he iz discovered, no amount of gold vill keep him out of magical jail for life. Mine zombies haff no such zignature, so dey are truly superior." Richtofen answered proudly.

* * *

><p><strong>Military Installation,<strong>

**El Paso, Texas, 10:34 pm**

A monster truck pulled up outside the gate. The guards looked at each other confusedly, then moved forward to intercept. After all, its not every day a monster truck pulls up outside a military installation. What was even weirder was the large purple bulldog with biceps like mountains that came out of the aforementioned monster truck.

Their expressions turned to shock and pain when said bulldog literally began shooting up a storm with twin tommy guns that he pulled from behind his back. They were dead in an instant.

Muggshot grinned and put his guns away. Walking on his hands, he swung himself forward and kicked down the gate. The alarm turned on, along with that yellow flashing light which serves no purpose except to annoy people.

Pulling out his guns again, he began to shoot out all the cameras and guards that came after him. One guard was able to get a few words out.

"HALT! PUT DOWN YOUR-AAARRGH!" He never got past that part.

Muggshot came to a door that said "Danger. Do not open at all. Not even a little."

Of course, he broke it down.

His eyes immediately fell upon the lump of glowing metal. The label was Element 115.

"Jackpot." Muggshot said.

He picked it up and made his escape. On his way out, Muggshot grabbed the Uranium containers. He threw the items in his trunk, leaped in, and drove away in his monster truck.

* * *

><p><strong>Gotham City Bank,<strong>

**Gotham City (duh), 11:20 pm**

It was a peaceful night at the bank. The teller stamped her papers and yawned, as it was a very boring night. Outside was the screeching of tires. She looked at the far wall and saw a clown car burst through the wall.

The Joker stepped out of his car stood proudly, with all his men behind him, and announced for all to hear "Citizens of Gotham! Rejoice, 'cause the circus is in town!"

He walked over to the teller whose hand reached for the phone. From nowhere, the Joker pulled out a gigantic knife. He held it up to the teller's throat. His scarred face stretched in a maniacal grin.

"It would seem that you have been forced to work at knife point." He pulled his head back and laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world. His thugs laughed with him to prolong their existence. The teller led the Joker to the bank vault.

"H-here it is. B-but there are guards on the other s-side." Said the teller.

"Not a problem!" He walked over to the vault and knocked on it three times.

"Knock-knock!" He said cheerfully as his henchman, Mr. Hammer, a big buffed-up clown with a rather large metal hammer, walked up to the vault.

There was a pause. A guard cautiously asked, "Who's there?" over the intercom.

"Mr. Hammer." Said the Joker.

"Mr. Hammer who?" asked a different guard.

Mr. Hammer smashed down the door with his aforementioned hammer, knocking the guards back quite a ways.

"MR. HAMMER HAMMERS YOU!" Said the Joker gleefully, before laughing like it was the best joke ever made.

* * *

><p>The police arrived on the scene. Stepping out of the cars, they raised their guns to the door of the bank.<p>

"Hello, Mr. Police Officers!" Said a rather feminine voice atop the bank.

The officers looked up to see a blond-haired girl with pink highlights wearing a jester's uniform. She was Harley Quinn, the Joker's girlfriend (Hey! That rhymes!).

"Where's your boyfriend, Harley?" asked the police sergeant in a deep voice of authority.

"Your soooo rude, Mr. Sergent sir. Lets discuss this over a smoke like you and your men seem to enjoy soooo much." She lit a cigar and threw it on the ground in front of the police cars.

Unfortunately, one of the cars had its gas punctured by a rather sneaky henchman, so it was leaking gasoline. Also unfortunately, all the cars were clumped together.

The cigar made the gasoline catch on fire. It led to one of the police cars, making it explode. It then led to the next car and so forth in an _exploding domino effect_.

"GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!" Shouted the sergeant as he and his fellow officers ran for cover.

The Joker stepped out of the bank. He observed the scene of the now smoking and on fire cars. He took a deep breath and said, "SSSSSSMOKIN' HOT!" He laughed his trademark laugh and got into the clown car (That seems to defy the laws of physics) with Harley and the rest of his henchmen, including Mr. Hammer (Lets not forget him).

* * *

><p><strong>Krappe Laboratories<strong>

**Paris, France, 12:00 pm**

With a crack, Lucius Malfoy apparated directly into the middle of the Paris branch of Krappe ( The "K" is silent, but no one knows that) Laboratories. His abrupt appearance startled quite a few scientists, causing them to drop their test tubes containing God knows what. Guards immediately ran towards him with guns drawn.

They died.

The first one was hit by a Killing Curse. His friend caught him, checked his pulse, and said, "_Paul est mort ! Rien de Dieu il !_"

Then he was beheaded by a Cutting Curse. Another came after Lucius but Russel flew through the window and removed his spine with a sickening crack and a shower of blood. "Nice to see you Russel. Though I would appreciate it if you took care as to not spill blood on my robes next time." Lucius said. "Let's get this over with." Russel said annoyed. Lucius walked over to a door labeled "Only authorized employees may enter." With a swish of his wand and a mutter of "_Reducto"_, the door was blasted in.

Rows of test tubes lined the walls. They were filled with an experimental pheromone designed for mind control. The government of France had decided to make the pheromone without telling any of the other countries.

The Master would be very pleased with his work, and would no doubt reward him profusely.

With another swish of his wand, the test tubes floated off the racks and landed smoothly into an enchanted bag. Lucius pocketed the bag and Disapparated, followed by his begrudging vampire ally who took to the air once more.

* * *

><p><strong>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry<strong>

**Scotland, 1:04 am**

Muggshot delivered the Element 115 and Uranium to the Doctor's laboratory. There, in the deep bowels of a building covered in gargoyles, Gothic arches, and other cosmetically intimidating pieces of architecture, he made his minions.

* * *

><p>The wizards of Hogwarts were caught totally unprepared. The zombie horde swept away the hasty defenses. The wards were down, utterly destroyed by Blackheart's demonic presence.<p>

Chaos ensured when the great gates were smashed down by the unending tide of bodies. Into this madness, Divination Teacher Luna Lovegood, aged 22, walked into. She strode directly into the middle of the battle. However, her nose was buried in her lesson plans, and such did not notice the curses screaming over her head, or the thousand moaning zombies to her right.

One zombie ran into Luna, causing her to look up and see the battle going on around her. For reasons unknown to anyone, including the zombie itself, the zombie was wearing a brightly colored uniform and a party hat sitting lopsidedly on its head.

The zombie quickly composed itself. It gave Luna its unending stare, stretched out its arms, and said "Uuuuuhhhhh." Now Luna, who was considered by many to not have had all her lights on upstairs and who's elevator did not reach the top, tilted her head to the side quizzically and said, "An _Umgubular Slashkilter_?"

Your basic zombie does not have much of a mindset to work with, but this particular zombie was able to say ( or rather, moan) "Uuuuuhhhhh?"

Luna squealed in delight and wrapped her arms around the now rather startled zombie and yelled, "You ARE an _Umgubular__ Slashkilter_!" Luna waved her wand and summoned a steak from one of the four tables. Upon receiving it, she presented it to the zombie.

The zombie, displaying a rather unusual intelligence, took the steak from her. It sniffed the meat, decided it was hungry, and bit into it. The zombie somehow decided it liked the meat, and therefore decided it liked Luna.

All around them, the battle had paused as both wizard and zombie alike looked over at them. The expressions of the wizards practically screamed out "WTF?" while the zombies just stared (in a zombie-like way). Eventually, they stopped staring and resumed battling. Finally, Headmistress McGonagall sent a powerful _Incendio_, which sent the hordes retreating. The surviving wizards looked at each other.

"Filius, would you mind sending a letter to the Ministry?" McGonagall asked. "Of course, Minerva." squeaked Professor Flitwick. The diminutive professor waddled off as fast as his legs could carry him.

Conqueror Z here with a shout-out to all fans of the Conquerors. I hereby announce that this chapter was finished in a small town in Michigan. If you have any ideas for a character you want to appear in the story, let us know through a review. Thank you.


	3. What to Do, What to Do?

WE OWN NOTHING (STILL)

The New League

Chapter 3

What To Do, What To Do?

Authors: As requested we now describe all of the characters in case you don't know about them. If we fail at describing them to you you can always try a google image search of them. Use the absolutely wonderful list that we typed up below to help you.

Name: Profession: Series:

The Master Being Master-like The Conquerors (Thats us.)

Edward Richtofen Mad scientist Call of Duty

Lucius Malfoy Former Death Eater Harry Potter

Muggshot Gangsta Sly Cooper

Blackheart Being Demonic Ghost Rider

Joker Clown Prince of Crime Batman

Russel Edgington Former Vampire King True Blood

* * *

><p>Richtofen roared in anger at the sight of his zombies being driven back. "<em><strong>Ich töte jene bastard! Wenn ich mit ihnen getan werde, dort won' t ist genug, zum der Maden einzuziehen!<strong>_" he screamed, with his voice becoming demonic in pitch and tone.

Blackheart gave the Mad Doctor some space. For the thousandth time, he cursed the Rider that had defeated him. At his moment of glory, he was beaten and dragged down to hell by his father. The Master saved him from that fate, but his powers were now reduced! Damn him!

* * *

><p>The owl flew away from Hogwarts into the night. Behind it, the castle lay in ruins. The only mercy was that it was summer, so there were no students when the zombies attacked. The staff members began putting out the fires with the <em>Aquamenti<em> charm.

The bird with a mission flew to the Ministry of Magic. It dropped its letter on the desk of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic. The sound of the letter hitting his desk woke him up. He woke with a start and instinctively drew his wand and fired off multiple spells. By the time Kingsley figured out that he was not being attacked most of his paperwork was on fire, his secretary was being chased by a huge green creature (with teeth), a chair was walking away, and it had begun to snow.

Seeing the situation he had accidentally created, he waved his wand and set everything back to normal. Kingsley spotted the letter on his desk and opened it. After ten minutes of reading it and re-reading it, he leaped for parchment and his quill.

* * *

><p><strong>Hidden Facility,<strong>

**Bermuda Triangle, 6:30 am**

"Thank you all for coming on such a short notice." said Kingsley in his deep baritone voice. He knew that he had to speak carefully. In this room were the Magical and Non-Magical leaders of the major nations in the entire world. If he spoke wrongly, he could very well start a war.

"It iz no problem, Minister Shacklebolt," said French Minister of Magic Jean Claude de Poisson. "Most of us have been effected by this _ennuyeux_ organization."

Sabrina Spellman, the American Minister of Magic, spoke up next: "I concur with _Monsieur_ Claude de Poisson. My assistant was threatened by the Joker himself when he held up a bank yesterday. I say that something must be done at once!"

German Minister of Magic Albrecht Barth began to speak. "Let us then decide vhat to do vith these _unholde_. But first, I believe ve are missing a few participants."

It was then that the assembled leaders heard arguing from outside the room. Some of what they heard was strange, some of it was violent, and a lot of it was disturbing.

There was a collective sigh in the room as everyone knew who was about to enter.

Two blonde men enterd the room in an all out brawl. They currently had each others hands around their throats attempting to strangle each other. Everyone looked on as the anthromorphic personifiacation of Britain and France tried to kill each other.

Yes, unaware to most people every country has a anthromorphic representation. They look and act just like normal humans except for that they act like just like the stereotype assosciated with that country and go with their boss (the leader of that country) to attend political meetings.

Right now Britain was wearing a green military jacket with short messy blond hair and black military boots. The person he was choking, France, wore a flashy blue shirt with purple cape that always made him stick out in wars. He had long blond hair that reached shoulder lenght and was messier than Britain's was. He also had a goatee.

Watching the two fight laughing at the sight while bouncing around happpily was America. He had sandy blond hair with a piece of hair sticking up like a cresent he called Nantucket. He wore a beige military jacket eith a brown bomber coat over that with a number fifty on the back.

Also looking on at the fight with a look of worry was China wearing a a bright green military jacket. He had long black dark hair that was tied into a pony tail.

Standing next to him was a broad and tall silver haired man with purple eyes bundled up in a big thick coat with some sort of medal near the heart. This was Russia. He aslo currently egging on the fight between Britain and France.

"Yeah yeah! Go for the jugular Aim low hit hard! Use your weight!"

China then turned around and spoke to him.

"Who exacty are you voting for, aru?"

"I vote indiscriminately da!"

Italy was hiding behind Germany, who was trying to figure out how to shut them up. After a few minutes, he came upon an idea.

"SHUT ZE HELL UP!" he shouted.

When everyone quieted down, Kingsley said, "Thank you, Germany."

"You are velcome."

"The reason that I have called you here is because of an orginization that has become rather troublesome." (In another dimension, a certain lazy genius sneezed) "We have all been attacked on our own soil. The question is, 'What do we do about it?'"

There was a long pause until America spoke up. "As the Hero, I volunt-"

"NO!" everyone screamed at the same time.

"But I didn't get to say my plan!" America whined.

"It doesn't matter, it would suck anyway!" said Britain.

"No it doesn't! It involves giant robots, flamethrowers, and-"

"SEE WHAT I MEAN?" erupted Britain.

"_Quietus._" said Kingsley. (During the evolution of the wizarding world, the wizards lost their creativity for naming spells at this point. This is evidenced by this particular spell)

"So anyway." Kingsley continued. "Our sources tell us that various criminal masterminds of the strong, the fierce, and just plain bizzare have teamed up in this organization. They appear to be technologicaly and magicaly advanced and dangerous. If no one else has any ideas I may have a solution to our problems."

Everyone else leaned in, eager to hear what he had to say.

"Ladies and Gentlmen we need...a new League of Extraodinary Gentlemen."

* * *

><p><strong>Authors note (again): Where the character of the human representation of countries comes from is the anime Hetalia. It's hard to explain but if you wish for a better explanation you should search it on Wikipedia. Also if you want to know what these characters really look like on Google Search type in Hetalia before entering the name of the country.<strong>


	4. A Plan Begins

WE STILL OWN NOTHING

A Lot of Things have Been happening. Yet the World still turns, and The Conquerors keep Typing.

The New League

Chapter 4:

A Plan Begins

SS

**Hidden Facility,**

**Bermuda Triangle, 6:35 am**

For a while, there was silence across the room. Each member of the conference sat there in shocked silence at the proclamation.

Then everything erupted.

Everyone began talking at once, trying to make their point heard. Kingsley was flabbergasted; he had never expected his idea would cause such discord.

A few people kept to themselves and watched the chaos unfold. Finally, one of these few stood up, put his hand to his lips and whistled loudly.

As the yelling died down, the Non-Magical President of the United States turned to Kingsley.

"If you would continue, Minister Shacklebolt, I, for one, would be very interested in what you have to say." Having said his peace, he sat down.

"Thank you, President Luthor. As I was saying, due to the threat posed by this terrorist group, I recommend that a new League of Extraordinary Gentlemen be formed immediately to counter this threat. Who agrees?"

Minister Barth was astounded. "ARE YOU INZANE?!" he thundered. "The last Group vhaz a disaster, and you want to try again?"

"Minister Barth, I assure you, all precautions will be taken to ensure that history does not repeat itself. I know the damage was substantial-"

"SUBSTANTIAL?! Half of _mein_ Ministry was covered in a disgusting purple slime and zhe other half vhas on fire!"

"-But this time" Kingsley continued "We will keep a very close eye on their actions. Now, I ask again: who agrees with me?"

A vote was cast, with Kingsley, Minister Spellman, President Luthor, _Monsieur_ Claude de Poisson, America, China, Japan, France, and Russia voting for, with Minister Barth, President Joachim Gauck of Non-Magical Germany, Britain, Germany against. Italy abstained from the vote.

"it is decided, then." said China. "A new League of Extraordinary Gentlemen has been approved, aru."

Kingsley stood up. "As for members, I have a few ideas.

SS

**221B Baker Street**

**London, UK, 11:55 pm**

The streets of London were dark as night fell. The street lamps came on as the last few people hurried themselves home. Most of the apartments inhabitants had closed up for the night and gone to bed, but at 221B Baker Street, there were lights on. That is what the hooded man was interested in.

Crossing the street, he rapped sharply on the door. After several seconds, he knocked again, and heard a reply through the door. Soon the door opened to reveal an elderly woman in her seventies.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes." The man's voice was rich and sibilant. "Is Mr. Holmes in?"

"Yes sir, he is." The housekeeper answered. "If you don't mind me asking, what is you're name?"

"Harrison." The reply was short. "Please inform Mr. Holmes that I would speak with him."

"Wait a moment." The door was closed. The newly named Harrison waited outside until she returned.

"He'll see you now, sir." Harrison nodded his thanks and went inside. Going up the stairs, he reached the proper door and knocked once more.

"Enter." came the voice within. Opening the door, Harrison was left almost staggered by the smell of tobacco smoke.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind. I find that smoking settles my nerves and frees my mind considerably." sadi the man sitting in the chair near the window. Recovering, Harrison looked him over. He was averagely built, yet seemed to contain some kind of spry energy.

He was dressed in simple clothes: brown pants, green shirt, and a brown jacket. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two things hanging from a coat rack: a brown leather jacket and a brace of revolvers. The man in the chair had a pipe clamped firmly between his lips.

Harrison decided to get down to business.

"You are Patrick Holmes?" he inquired, though already knowing the answer.

The man smiled. "I am indeed, though I am must admit you and I are not acquainted."

"Indeed. I am Commander John Harrison." he replied in his rich voice.

"I'd say you are not quite from around here, maybe even another continent entirely."

"Oh? What would drive you to make such assumptions?" asked Harrison.

"Simple." replied Holmes. "You're voice, though well disguised, retains a slight hint of a foreign accent, perhaps Indian or maybe even Sikh. This leads me to conclude that you're name is not actually Commander John Harrison, but actually a different name altogether."

If 'Harrison' was impressed, he didn't show it. "On all accounts, you are correct, Mr. Holmes. Though it is not my true name, for the duration of our time together, I must insist that you use the name John Harrison as my own. Do you find this agreeable?"

Holmes smiled. "I do, Commander. Now what, may I dare to ask, brings a fine man such as yourself to me on a night like this?"

Harrison sat down in an available chair. "We, who in this case mean the assembled world leaders, need your help."

Holmes straightened up. "Go on."

"A group of terrorists have recently struck at several key locations throughout the world. These people are powerful and ruthless. It has been decided that, in order to offer a direct response, a team should be put together with the intentions of putting an end to their goals. It was decided that you should be the leader."

Holmes, who up until now had a carefully guarded expression on his face, was surprised. "Why me?" he asked.

"Of that, I do not know. I believe it was something about you being the most mentally prepared for the job. Anyway, I have been appointed to act a liason between your team and the world leaders."

"Who else is in the team?" Holmes asked.

SS

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

**Scotland, 9:35 pm**

The teachers of Hogwarts were still rebuilding and removing zombie bodies when the owl came. Swooping around the shattered Great Hall, it positioned itself on the shoulder of Headmistress McGonagall. Examining it, she discovered the seal of the Ministry of Magic on it.

Swiftly and precisely, she broke the seal and began to read the letter. As she read, her eyes grew. Dropping the letter, she drew her wand and mumbled "_Expecto Patronum_."

From the tip of her wand, a silver cat sprung. "Professor Lovegood is requested in the Great Hall," she enunciated clearly. The Patronus flew away in a burst of silver.

SS

**Abandoned Warehouse**

**Los Angeles, U.S.A, 9:45 pm**

In a Los Angeles warehouse, a black man injected himself with a serum of his mentor's creation. Grimacing to himself as the liquid rushed through his veins, he sighed. As grateful as he was, did Whistler have to make it so damn uncomfortable?

A beep drew his attention to the computer on a nearby desk, which was actually two sawhorses with a plank of wood across them. Accessing his email, he found one new message.

Opening it up, Blade's expression went from pained grimace to very interested.

SS

**Woods Outside Bon Temps**

**Lousiana, U.S.A, 9:55 pm**

Bon Temps was very quiet at this time of night, she reflected. Eric had sent her to scope out places for the bar, and she was starting to feel hungry.

After several hours of looking, she had found a suitable spot just outside town. Now she could get something to eat.

As she walked past an alley, a hand lunged out and grabbed her neck. She let him, and a feeling of excitement was beginning to course through her cold veins. She felt a knife at her throat.

"Now lis'n well, girlie. Ya have five secunds to give me yer money, and Ah might not take anything else," said a voice in her ear. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

She found herself bored already of the chit-chat.

"Oh really, big boy? You see, there is just one problem," she said while looking down.

"Ya? Whas that?" the assailant asked.

Easily breaking his grip, she raised her head to look him in the eyes.

With a _'snick,'_ her fangs popped out.

"I'm hungry."

Then it was dinner time as her fangs sank deep into his neck with one hand over his mouth. She greedily sucked down the warm, life-giving fluid until there was none left.

Letting her attacker slump to the ground, she licked the remaining blood from her lips. Picking up the cooling body, she slung it over her shoulder with no discomfort. With a blur of motion, she was suddenly at a swamp.

She swung the corpse into the swamp and left as the gators started to gather.

With another blur of motion, she was at their temporary apartment.

Eric, sitting at the desk, looked up. "You have a message, Pam."

SS

**Secure Government Facility**

**Nevada, U.S.A, 10:00 pm**

The prisoner opened his eye as the door opened. He saw the man in a suit walk in with two soldiers, and the door closed behind them. He could hear the locks, for there were multiple, click.

The suited man walked to where he was chained to the floor.

_'Here we go.'_

The suit was expensive, so the man was important. He was overweight and his hairline was rapidly receding. His eyes were squinty, almost like a pigs.

"I see you haven't touched your food," the man said, gesturing to the plate of untouched food.

He said nothing, merely looked with his one eye.

"As you are no doubt aware, a situation such as yours is almost unheard of. We are very interested in how you came to be here."

_'Almost unheard of? What do they know about time travel and dimension-hopping?'_ the prisoner thought.

"As such, we are loathe to let you go, but the higher-ups have ordered it, so we, the underlings, must obey."

For the first time, the prisoner's remaining eye grew curious.

"What you are not aware of, however, is the explosive implant within you. If you you do not do as we ask, you will die, pure and simple."

_'Ah, same old, same old.' _ The prisoner was back on familiar ground.

"Mr. Matrix, you may enter."

The prisoner looked up as the locks clicked and the door opened. An absolute monster of a man stood there. He towered over the suited man with a difference of two feet.

_'Doesn't seem American though. German maybe? No, Austrian.'_

The suited man spoke up. "This is John Matrix. He will follow you and report back to us on your progress. For the duration of this assignment, you will be part of a team of, shall we say, _remarkable_ people who need to perform a task. The exact details of the task will be made clear later."

The suited man adjusted his tie. "Any questions, Mr. Plissken?"

At his name, the prisoner spoke for the first time.

"Call me Snake."

SS

**Two Days Later**

**Somewhere in Eastern Europe, 8:45 am**

Far away from civilization, surrounded by woods, inhabited by animals, was a single cabin made of timber. A motorcycle was parked outside with a chain wrapped around the seat.

It was, John Harrison thought, a perfect place for someone who did not want to be found. It reminded him of his days growing up, before he and his brethren were unleashed on the world all those years ago.

Before the wars...

Shaking his head, Harrison strode confidently up to the door. Pausing for a moment, he could hear movement inside. He knocked on the door sharply.

The sounds from inside stopped. Harrison waited politely for a few seconds, then he heard a clicking sound. Instantly recognizing the sound, he dove away from the door before a bullet tore through it.

The occupant of the cabin kicked open the door. He was a well built man with tanned features. He wore black leather pants and a black t-shirt. An old Winchester rifle was held in his hands. As he chambered another round, he saw Harrison standing to the side. His face held no fear as the gun was pointed at him.

"Who are you?" the gun wielding man practically hissed. "And what do you want?" His voice had a faint hint of a western drawl.

In his deep voice, Harrison introduced himself. "I am Commander John Harrison. And you are Johnny Blaze, correct? As to what I want, I am here with an offer."

"Yeah, well, the last time I got an offer, it didn't work out so well." the former stunt cyclist responded. As he spoke he drew a bead on the other man. As his finger tightened on the trigger, the commander spoke.

"Are you not, at the very least, curious as to the nature of the offer I bring from my superiors?"

There was a pause, then Blaze lowered his gun. Leaning it over his shoulder, he squinted up and seemed to glare at the sun. Turning to Harrison, he said "Lets talk inside."

The inside of the cabin was a wreck. Bottles of cheap alcohol littered the floor, while old books and religious texts spread across several tables. There was a faint smell of brimstone in the air. All the windows were painted over in black, and the only light came from several lamps and candles. A leather jacket was carelessly thrown over a chair.

"I would offer you a drink, but you don't seem like the kind of man who wants one." said Johnny as he sat in a chair. At his offering, Harrison took the other.

"Indeed, I am. Like I said, I am hear with an offer."

Sitting back in his chair, Johnny sighed. "Alright, I'm listening."

"There is a situation that requires an extreme amount of attention. It is a matter of safety."

"The safety of who?" asked Johnny, who had poured himself some cheap whiskey.

"It is not a matter of 'who', so much as it is of a 'what.' And the 'what' is, in this case, the world."

Now he had Johnny's full attention. He put down his glass and leaned forward.

"You want ME, or rather HIM, to save the world? Hate to tell you, but HE doesn't do that very well." Johnny laughed sarcastically.

"The threat is severe." Harrison went on undeterred. "It is a coalition of villains and savages who have no remorse. They spare no thought for the innocents who will be harmed by there actions."

"That won't be enough for HIM." said Johnny. "HE needs much more of a reason, and in HIS eyes, no one is truly innocent. Because of that, HE will kill whoever crosses his path. So unless you have a VERY good reason, HE won't help you, and neither will I."

Leaning back into his chair, Harrison contemplated this for a moment. Johnny was about to tell him to to leave when he spoke again.

"Does the name 'Blackheart' sound familiar to you, Mr. Blaze?" he asked calmly. THAT had a reaction.

The room seemed to get hotter as Johnny spoke in a snarl. _"What about him?"_

"I just thought you'd like to know the name of one of the members of this little terrorist group. It's not like that will change anything, so good day, Mr. Blaze." Harrison said as he stood and walked towards the door. "May you enjoy yourself as the world burns." With that, he walked out the door, leaving behind a contemplating Johnny Blaze.

Harrison had been walking towards the pick-up point for about half an hour when he heard the sound of a motorcycle. He waited until it pulled up beside him. Johnny Blaze now wore the leather jacket, and the chain which had been previously wrapped around the seat of the bike was now wrapped twice around his body. The Winchester was in a side compartment.

Turning to him, Harrison waited. A moment of silence passed between the two men. Finally, it was broken.

"When do we begin?" asked Johnny Blaze. This time, though, there was something different about his voice. It seemed almost _excited_. As Harrison looked into his eyes, he saw something.

A great flame seemed to roll beneath his eyes. The flame spoke of something waiting under the surface of the otherwise innocuous biker. It was something powerful...

And hungry.

SS

**AN: Greetings to All fans Of The Conquerors. I, Z, bring to you The New League's Fourth chapter. It has Been a long time Coming, but it Is done.**

**Happy Thanksgiving to All.**

**Thank You.**


	5. A Gathering of Strange Sorts

WE REMAIN IN THE OWNERSHIP OF NOTHING

The New League

Chapter 5:

A Gathering of Strange Sorts

SS

**League Headquarters**

**London, United Kingdom, at an Ungodly Hour of Night**

Patrick Holmes was the first to arrive. The leader had taken three different metro lines and walked about five blocks in the typical London weather of rain. Along the way he had gotten a sandwich. It was ham and cheese.

It was delicious.

He had arrived 30 minutes before the meeting was supposed to take place in order to make a good impression on whoever was in charge.

At exactly 21:30, or 9:30 on a 12-hour clock, the descendant of the legendary detective strode through the doors. He was met by Harrison.

"Detective, your early." said the man.

"Your earlier, Commander. But early is relative, given that it's night right now."

"Indeed. Shall I take your coat?"

Shrugging, Holmes removed his coat and fedora, leaving him in his normal clothes, which were brown pants, a white shirt, and a dark brown tweed jacket over it. Two revolvers were snug in their holsters on his hips.

Completely disregarding the sign that had NO SMOKING in bright red letters, Holmes pulled out an old pipe, which he promptly lit up. He took a moment to puff a few times and savor the flavor of the smoke, then calmly asked, "So, have any of the others arrived yet?"

"No, Detective, you're the first." Harrison answered, wrinkling his nose slightly at the smoke.

Grinning, Holmes spread his arms wide. "Well, of course I am!" he declared.

"Follow me, Detective Holmes." Without waiting for him, Harrison sharply turned on his heel and left the entrance hall. Holmes followed, still puffing on his pipe.

SS

After depositing Holmes' coat and hat in a closet near the entrance, Harrison led him to a room further in the building. He opened the door.

"As I said, your the first one to arrive, so you can just wait here until the others-." Harrison started to say before he stopped.

As it turned out, the room was not as empty as he left it.

"Hello Commander John Harrison. Am I late? I was worried when I arrived and found that there was no one here. I thought the meeting was already over, but I guess I was wrong." said the small blond woman sitting at the table. She was wearing a light blue jacket and jeans, with a black shirt. A necklace of corks hung around her neck, and she seemed to have a pair of earrings made of radishes. Her big blue eyes seemed to be looking past them at something invisible.

For the first time since Holmes had met him, Harrison looked surprised. "How did you get here? I didn't see you come in,"

In a dreamy tone of voice, the woman said, "Oh, I just walked on through. The Nargles were clouding your brain, so you couldn't see me."

Harrison, Holmes, observed, was quickly losing his pristine, stone-like composure. Deciding to step in, he strode forward with a hand extended.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am. I'm Patr-"

"Oh, I know who you are, Detective Patrick Holmes. I knew that you would show up here first." The woman interjected as she took his hand. "And I'm Luna Lovegood."

"A pleasure, Ms. Lovegood, but you were the first one to arrive." Holmes pointed out.

"Yes, but you were the first one to walk through the door after Commander Harrison closed it so he could wait for our new friends." Luna countered.

"Well, yes but- wait, how did you get in if you didn't use the door?" Holmes asked?

"It was very simple. I just walked in, and I didn't see the door there." the blond said airily.

SS

It was another 20 minutes until more people showed up. In that time, Luna had roped Holmes into playing Chinese Checkers after Harrison had gone back up to wait for the other team members.

Johnny Blaze walked into the room. Taking a look around, he saw that the walls were lined with bookshelves and paintings of knights. The room was painted a dark beige color. As the biker walked in, Holmes and Luna looked up from their game to see him walk in slowly.

Holmes stood up. "Johnny Blaze?" he asked. After a hesitant nod was given, he walked forward. "I'm Patrick Holmes. I'm going to be the team leader."

Blaze politely declined the offer to shake hands. "I guess you know about me, then? About... HIM?"

When Holmes nodded, he said. "Good. Do you mind if we keep that part of me quiet for now?"

"No, I don't mind. You know that you'll have to come out with it eventually, right?" Holmes said.

"Yeah, well, I'll drive that road when I come across it." the biker said.

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

SS

Now she remembered why she hated England.

She hated the weather. It messed up her makeup and hair. _Of course_ it was raining.

Pam had been in London for less than 2 hours when the skies had opened up and started pouring. She had been forced to catch the last available flight from Shreveport, so she was already in a foul mood from being confined to a travel coffin.

_'At least the flight attendant was tasty.'_ she thought to herself. As she entered the building, Pam was met by a man who introduced himself as Harrison.

_'Now here's a man. Tall, imposing, emotionless, and..'_ her thoughts trailed off as she smelled him. He was human, but there was something different about him. He smelled like a man in absolute perfect physical condition, almost _better_ than perfect.

"Through here, ma'am."

Pam realized that Harrison had led her to the meeting room without her paying attention as to where the location actually was.

_'Oh well.' _ She could always _glamor_ someone into telling her the directions later.

As Harrison moved to open the door, she spoke up. "I can open a door on my own, thanks. Go back to your guard post."

The man gave an inscrutable look as he left. Pam pushed open the doors on her own.

"Pamela Swynford De Beaufort?" one of the men asked. Oh, how she hated it when someone called her by her first name. Only Eric was allowed to do that.

"Cut the crap and call me Pam. You in charge?" she asked.

"Yes, I am. I'm Patrick Holmes. This is Johnny Blaze and Luna Lovegood." Pam ignored the hand that she was offered and sat down. Sniffing the air, she noticed a few things. First off, her new "leader" smelled like old tobacco and alcohol, with a hint of gunpowder beneath it all.

The biker smelled like leather and smoke. It wasn't tobacco or cigarette smoke, more like burning flesh. He looked at her strangely, and his eyes seemed to flash red.

Averting her gaze, Pam turned to the other member of the group who had arrived. The other blond looked at her with a smile. She had a slightly vacant expression as she pulled out a magazine. The young woman then proceeded to read it upside down. Sniffing the air, Pam smelled something interesting.

_'A witch? Haven't seen one since Russia.'_ the vampire thought.

Only three other members were present, and she had gotten strange readings off of them.

Maybe this group thing wouldn't be so boring after all.

SS

The next person that Harrison showed in was recognized by Pam instantly.

He recognized her too, as evidenced by the sword that he pulled out from behind his back.

"YOU!" the black Daywalker snarled.

"Me." the vampire answered calmly. "Now if you don't put that pig-sticker away, I might do something about it. And if I don't, then our resident Commander will, judging by that knife he has pointed at your balls."

Blade looked down, and froze. The vampire hadn't lied, there WAS a knife sticking between his legs, the sharp edge pointing up, and being held dangerously close to his bits.

The knife was being held by Harrison, who had moved so fast that Blade hadn't even seen him move, although that could have been attributed to his focus on the dangerous supernatural creature sitting calmly with her legs crossed.

Slowly, Blade removed his hand from his sword. As he did so, the knife disappeared. Harrison briskly turned around and left, as if he hadn't just threatened a legendary vampire slayer with castration.

Keeping a close eye on Pam, the imposing black figure of Blade sat down in the seat furthest from the vampire. He placed his sword on the table next to him, where it was within easy reach but not actively threatening to the rest of the room.

The little outburst didn't dissuade Holmes from trying to shake his hand. The Daywalker politely declined.

SS

It was shortly after that the final two members of their group arrived. Harrison led them in about 10 minutes after the confrontation.

The first man was scruffy, to say the least. He was muscled, and several tattoos were present. He wore dark gray cargo pants, black boots, a white sleeveless, and a black leather trench coat over the whole ensemble. His brown hair was long and matted, and his face was set in a near permanent scowl. His right eye was covered up by a black eye-patch.

The second man was huge. He towered above everyone in the room, even Blade. He wore a suit that, even though it was tailor-made for him, bulged at the seams from the muscles contained within. His dark brown hair was cut short in a military-style haircut. His dark eyes seemed to be squinting at everything, and he seemed ready for action.

The big man spoke first, in a thick Austrian accent. "Gentlemen, and ladies, I am Colonel John Matrix. The government of the United States of America has asked me to be part of your group to watch this man."

Here he pointed to his companion, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but the current location. Holmes spoke up, offering his hand to both of them. Matrix's hand was almost twice the size of Holmes', and it looked like he had to hold back to not crush the much smaller hand.

After Holmes had regained feeling in his hand, if offered it to the other man. "Mr. Plissken? I'm Patrick Holmes, the leader of this team."

The other man looked at the offered hand, but didn't take it. Instead, in a rough voice, he said, "Call me Snake."

"Now that all of the team members have arrived, we can get down to business." Harrison cut in. "Follow me."

SS

The ragtag group was led by Harrison into a long, dark room. He put his hand on the light switch, then paused. The man turned his head to the team. "I must insist that you don't touch anything that you see, somethings are old, and could crumble at the slightest touch, but most could be dangerous to your health.

After the nods of agreement, Harrison flicked the lights on. The room was lined with glass containers. Within the containers lied strange items.

There didn't appear to be a common theme of items, apart from the fact that there was no theme. Books and scrolls were arranged next to hats and guns, while swords were placed out with no idea of order.

It looked, basically, like a collection of really random, but slightly cool, shit.

"Do you know what the significance of this room is?" Harrison asked.

For a while, there was silence as each person looked around and tried to figure out the purpose. It was the silent, one-eyed man who gave an answer.

"Trophies." Plissken grunted.

"Exactly, Mr. Plissken." Harrison said. Ignoring the man's mutter of "Call me Snake," he continued.

"Take a good look around you, and see the history of your predecessors adventures. Yes, that's right." Harrison added to Johnny and Pam, who looked somewhat surprised. "You are not the first people who have been called together. This operation began in 1899, when a madman attempted to plunge the world into war. Ever since then, a new group has been bought together every couple of years."

He paused, and looked around at the now-silent group, before continuing. "The members have always been varied, from many paths of life, and some have been, shall we say, more _extraordinary_ than others."

Walking down the rows of stuff, Harrison said, "I'll give you a few minutes to look around, and then we shall continue."

With that said, the group split up to examine the collection amassed by their predecessors.

Holmes approached an old journal that was placed carefully in a glass case. It was leather-bound, but covered with water stains and black smudges in places where the ink had run. The engraving on the cover was still readable, and it said _The Journal of Arthur Denison, Victorian Explorer, Vol. 2. _Underneath it was a small plaque that read, _Gurney, Rhinebeck, 1992._

"That name sounds familiar..." Holmes muttered to himself.

Pam had found another book, but one far more ornate. Instead of wood, it's cover appeared to be a black metal. Egyptian hieroglyphics adorned the front in long columns. A sun shaped depression sat in the cover, with the symbol of a scarab emblazoned within. A page of notes was included, also preserved in a glass case.

_Page 25_

_The Black Book_

_All attempts at opening unsuccessful_

_Book impervious to harm_

_Key required?_

_Second expedition to city needed._

_-O'Connell, 1939_

Looking up from the page, Pam took a closer look at the book. Despite the symbols, it looked relatively normal. It was then that she noticed something.

The more that she looked at it, the harder it seemed to turn away. As she gazed at it, she thought she heard things. A whisper entered her ears, a dark voice chanting in some primordial language. An arid desert wind howled in the background. The voice grew louder, chanting madly. It reached it's peak, then-

"Pamela?"

Startled, Pam whipped around to glare at Luna, who, somehow, had sneaked up on her. "And what do you want, Little Miss Fairy Princess?" she snarled.

"Oh, nothing." the younger blond turned and left to examine a headband that had a metal plate on it. A leaf symbol was etched into the plate.

Growling to herself, Pam cast one last look at the book, but it remained silent. Scoffing, she moved on.

SS

As Pam moved over to a recent addition, a katana with a skull as a hilt, Blaze had found something curious.

A smoker's pipe was placed in a display case. The curious thing about it was that smoke drifted out of the bowl, even though there was no one smoking it. An empty can of spinach sat next to it.

The inscription was: _Pipe owned by Operative 29, codenamed "Sailor." Went missing in 1945 on mission._

"Doesn't explain the spinach, though." Blaze muttered to himself.

SS

"I wonder how they got this." Blade mused as he examined the hat.

It was a tricorn, the kind of hat kids would wear on Halloween when they dressed like pirates. However, it was considerably older and frayed from use. Soot stained the edges of the hat, as if burning fuses had been underneath for a considerable amount of time.

The thing that had gotten Blade interested was the small note next to it: _Hat of Edward Teach, aka Blackbeard. Recovered in 1949 by members Jones and Rogers of the League of Marvelous Gentlemen __(Active 1938-1952)._

SS

"The hell is this?" Plissken said, catching the others attention. Clustering around, Matrix read the inscription.

"_Reticulating Shirt: A shirt that chokes the wearer. Curse unknown. Found in stash of Dark Lord Grindlewald after his defeat. Do not wear."_

Almost as one, every person looked at the innocuous plaid shirt that was neatly folded behind a glass plate that had several runes engraved in it. The shirt simply sat there and looked normal.

As one, each member took a step away from it.

SS

"Well, shall we continue?" Harrison asked. Without waiting for their response, he turned on his heel and walked to the very back of the room. There were cases there, too, but they were more archaic, and contained rather simple items.

There was a old lever action Winchester next to a pair of revolvers. A pair of black sunglasses sat on a neatly folded black duster, and near that was a very large top hat. An Indian-style sword sat in front of an ornate blue turban.

Several other relics were placed around the room. What appeared to be a burnt and partially melted suit of armor sat in a tall case. A gray cane-sword was placed directly underneath the portrait of a handsome young man.

"Ladies and gentlemen, these are the relics from the ones that started it all, the first League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. While it is unknown what became of them after their mission, the legacy that was left behind continued." Harrison said.

He paused for a moment to let that sink in, then said, "You, who have been assembled here have been chosen to form the most recent incarnation of this legendary team."

The room was plunged into silence, each member digesting this information.

"Now," Harrison said. "Would you like to know why?"

SS

They were taken to a conference room. Unlike the previous rooms, it held very little in terms of decoration. The long table had several files placed at various seats.

The various members took a seat, while Harrison elected to remain standing. "The files before you contain the details of this assignment. You may see a few familiar faces."

There was a rustling of paper as the files were opened.

"Huh." Luna said out-loud to herself. "So this is where Malfoy Senior has been this entire time?" After a few curious glances, she elaborated. "Our Ministry lost track of his whereabouts two weeks ago. His son was questioned, but he and his wife had no answers."

Another silence descended upon the table. Until...

"Are you shitting me?" All eyes turned to Pam, who seemed transfixed by the file. "Russel _fucking_ Edgington? The fucking Vampire King of Mississippi is involved? You're insane for suggesting that we fight him, a 3,000 year old vampire!"

"As much as I hate agreeing with my prey, the bimbo's right." Blade said, ignoring Pam's hiss. "You have to be crazy to even think about going after him. I've heard some bad rumors from other vamps. If you fuck with him, he'll rip out your spine before you can blink."

"What is THAT?" Plissken asked. "It looks like the spawn of an ape and a dog on steroids."

"Apparently, it has exceptional strength, but it's not very smart." Matrix said. "But the clown, I recognize. He's a complete psycho. He has no remorse or goal other than getting a good laugh out of it. On top of that, he's completely unpredictable, since he follows no real plan."

"I'm sure that'll be fun." Johnny said. "Now, this guy." Here he held up a picture. "Blackheart. He's a real piece of work. I've faced him before, but I only won by playing smart."

"Curious. In addition to that, apparently we have a Nazi who can raise the dead." Holmes said. "Normally, I would say that's impossible, but because of the presence of our dear Pamela, who happens to be one such 'undead' being, I am forced to conclude that it may be possible."

"Dr. Edward Richtofen. We're not sure when he was born, but he fought in both World Wars on the German side. Reports of is actions during the wars are sketchy, but we do know that he and his superior, Dr. Ludvig Maxis, were part of a section called Group 935, a think-tank whose goal was to create weapons out of a mysterious element that they mined in order to "'Improve the Human Condition.'" Harrison said.

"Now." he continued. "The reason these individuals are of note is because they have, for whatever reason, joined forces. Earlier this week, almost simultaneously, they attacked multiple places around the globe. Gotham City, Paris, Nevada, and Scotland felt their wrath. We're not sure exactly what the purpose of the attacks were, but that is another thing we hope to find out."

"So, what do you want us to do?" Johnny asked.

"We want you to figure out what their plan is. Figure it out and stop it before they complete it." Harrison answered.

"Why don't the government's take care of this problem?" asked Blade.

"Cause they don't want to get their hands dirty." Plissken muttered, ignoring the dark look Matrix gave him.

"The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen has done jobs like this throughout the history of the modern world. It was for problems like this that led to the creation of the League in the first place." Harrison answered. "And besides," he added. "It would take too long for them to mobilize the armies of the world into one cohesive unit. By the time they were ready, the enemy will have completed their plan."

"So your leaving the dirty work to a handful of freaks?" Johnny said. "No offense." he added.

"None taken." said Blade.

"I wouldn't say freaks, more like unique individuals." said Harrison, who smiled for the first time throughout the meeting.

"Well?" he asked. "Are you in?"

SS

"This is our lab. Here our best minds work to uncover the secrets of our enemies." Harrison said, opening a set of metal doors with little effort.

The room was large and strangely lit, with some parts illuminated, but with everything else cast into a zone of twilight. Racks of bubbling chemicals hissed on tables, and computer monitors shined out of the darkness, projecting lines of code.

A large computer mainframe sat up against the far wall. Multiple screens were hooked up to the system. Some of them showed security cameras, but most had more lines of code streaming by.

Pam was pretty sure she saw one screen that displayed a paused game of PONG.

Several keyboards were placed upon the desk, all connected to the various screens. In addition to the keyboards, a large hand sanitizer dispenser, an inhaler, and a plate of pizza sat on the desk, along with various electrical trinkets.

A figure sat in front of the desk, hidden in shadow. From where they stood, they could hear mutterings and the sound of fingers typing at a keyboard.

"Well, hello there." said a rough voice. Turning towards another desk, they found the one who spoke.

The man was huge, with long, black hair. Faint scars crossed his face, and he had blue eyes. He was heavily muscled, and dressed in the clothes of a lab assistant, though the white coat did seem to be straining slightly.

He sat in a large, wheeled leather chair, which made a creak as he stood up. In addition to his computer, a model of the human brain sat upon his desk.

His feet thudded heavily across the floor as he walked towards them with a hand extended. "My name is Adam. Nice to meet you."

While Holmes tried not to let his discomfort show as his hand was crushed in the other man's huge mitt, Pam sniffed the air. He smelled... strange.

"I'm the assistant to the head scientist here." Adam said, nodding to the figure cloaked in shadow.

Said figure, realizing that he had been mentioned, stopped typing and turned towards them, moving into the light. To their surprise, he wasn't human.

He was a turtle.

A bright green turtle, the size of an average 10 year old, sat in front of them like a human. He looked at them through thick glasses that left his eyes obscured. Over his shell was a buttoned down white shirt, with a red bow-tie.

As he moved forward towards them, the group saw that he was sitting in what appeared to be a high-tech wheelchair, if the wheels and the blinking red light was any indication.

"So you're the new guys, huh? I'm Bentley." the turtle said in a nasally voice.

Only Holmes was able to shake his offered hand, such was everyone's surprise.

SS

"Basically, when you all are out in the field, I'm going to be your support. I will provide intel and computer support when you need it." said the turtle. "Unfortunately, not only are we short-staffed, but our current tech is substandard. The last League was shut down in 1995, and we were decommissioned. All our tech was dismantled and shipped out to who-knows-where."

Blade was surprised. From what he saw, they had pretty advanced technology already, and Bentley considered it to be sub-par?

_'What kind of tech did they have before?'_ he wondered.

"We had to scramble to find the hardware we needed. Thankfully, Acme Labs was going bankrupt, and was willing to part with their tech for a cheaper price, thanks to my masterful negotiation skills."

Bentley paused to catch his breath, then continued. "The only real condition was that we take their lab rats, too." Here he waved to a nearby cage placed on a desk, where two white mice sat and looked at them with strangely intelligent eyes.

"Well, I have to get back to work wiping the inferior code and replacing it with one of my own genius. Farewell!"

With that, Bentley wheeled around, parked in front of his desk, and resumed typing.

SS

"These rooms will be yours while you are with us. Dinner is in an hour. Until I come for you, I suggest you get settled."

Then Harrison left the group in the hallway.

Silently, they went to their respective rooms. Some of them were going to call their families, while others would just sit and digest what they had learned. However, each of them knew that things would never truly be the same for them.

Patrick Holmes. Johnny Blaze. Luna Lovegood. Blade. Pamela Swynford de Beaufort. John Matrix. Snake Plissken.

Once divided, they had come together to become something greater.

Something that would change the world.

The New League is set.

The Game is on.

SS

**AN: This was A long time Coming. I, Z, have glanced at Our stats, and Found something Disturbing.**

**This Story is our Least Popular one. For Most authors, they would Discontinue the Tale.**

**But not Us.**

**We Shall finish it, and in Time, People will Like it.**

**Thank You.**


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